The Lost Boys
by Gracella
Summary: They'd lost everyone but each other, and they'd be damned if they didn't hold on tight to what they had.
1. Chapter 1

_Greasers don't cry._

It was a singular thought on the minds of all who were present. The small cluster of misfits and outcasts stared in a solemn daze at the memorials before them. A steady rain fell, and though the icy spray of water pierced even the most durable of  
leatherjackets, the boys were all very grateful for it. The splatter of the droplets traced their cheeks, masking the difference between the ones that fell from the sky and those that leaked from the corners of their eyes.

The first gravestone bore the name _Darrel Curtis Sr.,_ the only other informationbeing far too few years, and a short statement about his job as a father and husband.

The other belonged to a woman by the name of Margaret, who had the same surname, and a year or two less.

It seemed cruel that two such kind people, who were cursed with far too short of a life, should have such a nondescript funeral. The service had been virtually non-existent, and due to the cause of their deaths -an automobile collision with a freight  
train- it had been closed-casket. Sodapop Patrick Curtis wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he never got a chance to say goodbye, on the other, he had no interest in having to see the mangled corpses of two of the people he loved most  
in the world. The 16 year old sniffed subtlety, wiping the back of his fist across his face.

His older brother, Darrel CurtisJr., or Darry for short, had drawn himself up to his full height. His face, one full of joy, was set in a grim line. Soda's heart fell in his chest as he studied hisbrother. Their parents' death meant a very difficult choice  
for Darry: He could either attend college, giving himself the life he had always worked so hard for, effectively ridding himself of his greaser background, or he could raise his little brothers. The remaining members of the Curtis family had been  
purposefully avoiding the discussion of this choice, but as it had been nearly three days after his parents death, Soda knew it couldn'tbe avoided for much longer.

At this thought, his blue-eyed gaze sidled over to his younger brother, the only other remaining Curtis besides himself and Darry. The almost fourteen year old was sniffling like crazy, rubbing his eyes forcefullywith his fists in a bid to remain looking  
tough. He was wearing one of Soda's old suits, with the knees and elbows worn and the sleeves far past his hands. Soda himself only owned that one suit, the one he was currently wearing was a hand-me-down from Darry, though considering Darry's responsible  
personality, it was in far better condition. Soda continued watching the baby of the family with a careful gaze. Ponyboy, as he had been so originally named, kept his eyes locked on the tombstone. As if he was the only one inthe entire cemetery.

With a gentleness that always came naturally when in reference to his little brother, Soda took a step in his direction, clapping a hand on Pony's shoulder. He'd be damned if he didn't remind the 13 year old that he _wasn't_ the only one there.  
They were here for him. The sixteen year old glanced up, finally eyeing the rest of the small group assembled there. _They were all there for him._ The thought was barely even in his mind before he shook his head, amending his internal statement. _No, they were there for eachother._

The Curtis's had been the family that the rest of the hood looked up to. Darrel Curtis Sr. didn't get drunk, nor did he bring a belt or his fists to his three sons. He was no push over, and his boys knew better than to get into trouble, but he had been  
a loving father, participating in football games on many a summer night out in the lot. Mrs. Margaret Curtis, while somewhat plain in the rest of her appearance, had hadthese sparkling blue eyes that were always full of laughter, and she had tended  
to the needs of her boys as well as that of their friends. She was no stranger to a cigarette or a whiskey, while she was kind, she was still susceptible to the whims of her neighborhood, but she never once said a cruel word to her children, and was  
always there to fix up their scrapes and cuts.

The Curtis home was the only one void of screaming arguments and breaking furniture. They kept their doors unlocked, even during the troubled times, so that all the neighborhood boys could have a place on their sofa should they find themselves in need  
of it.

And so, while only a handful of people were there in the cemetery that day, and Darrel and Margaret Curtis had left the world without so much as a sliver of recognition for their goodness, it felt right. All the gang was there, Soda noticed as he smiled  
faintly to himself. Two-Bit Mathews, who only had ever allowed Mrs. Curtis to refer to him as his given name, Keith, had his fists stuffed into his pockets, mouth set into a firm line. He hadn't bothered to dress up, but Soda couldn't remember a time  
he hadn't been pissed-out drunk, and it was clear that Two-Bit was using his sobriety as his highest form of respect for the occasion.

Johnny Cade was there as well, of course. He had spent many a night in the Curtis home, when his father had beaten the living daylights out of him and his mother was passed out on the couch with a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a smoldering cigarette  
in the other.

Steve Randle approached the graves slightly, and his eyes met Soda's, the two exchanging a look of comfort only found between two best friends. Steve had practically grown up in the Curtis household, becoming Sodapop's closest friend, despite his occasional  
conflicts with Ponyboy.

Even Dallas Winston was there. His hair to longish to be greased back properly, instead hanging across his forehead. The usualcigarette hung loosely from his mouth, until every now and then he took a slow drag from it. The resident bad guy of their little  
neighborhood wasn't one to frequent funerals, and rumor had it he could be shipped off to jail _again_ any time now, but Soda supposed he'd made an acceptation, perhaps remembering the time Mrs. Curtis had helped bandage his wound after that  
nasty fight he'd gotten into with a rival gang.

Soda turned away from the gang, walking closer to the gravestones even as he felt every other member's eyes on him. He slipped to his knees in front of his parents graves, ignoring the sensation of the freezing mud as it oozed through the cloth of his  
only nice apparel. A singular thought remained in his mind, and that's what he repeated over and over again, putting all his energy into that one sentence.

 _Greasers don't cry._

 _Greasers don't cry._

 _Greasers don't cry._

And that's when the tears came, hot and heavy. Pouring down his face as his body heaved with silent sobs, one hand reaching forward to trace the roughly carved letters that bore his parents' legacies.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please review or message me with your thoughts/ideas/requests.**  
 **I'll add a chapter for every review I get. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Reviews:**

 **HappierThanMost** :

 **Your review totally made my day! I wasn't planning on updating so soon, but you inspired me too. Also, everyone should go check out your books if they're Outsiders fans, cause yours are amazing. Thanks again, and let me know if you have any ideas!**

 **A/N:**

 **Also, I wasn't sure what I was going to do as far as the description of the boys, seeing as Dally has dark hair in the movie but in the book he's blonde, so -though I feel terrible about this- I think I'll go off their movie appearances, just because they're easier for me to envision.**

 **-Gracella**

* * *

"Time to wake up, Pepsi-Cola." The voice penetrated Sodapop's dreamless slumber, and the sixteen year old groggily sat up, his blue eyes bleary as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, just a few more minutes Dar." He muttered, slumping back onto his thin pillow. Sunlight streamed through the dusty shades, filtering onto the scuffed flooring.

It was the first day of sunshine in a week, and to Sodapop Curtis, it felt like a sign. It had been five days since the funeral, and still he had so many questions about what was going to happen to those left of his family.

" _Now,_ Soda." Darry's voice came again from downstairs, using a tone far harsher than he had ever used when his parents were alive.

Soda sighed at the thought, it had been barely over a week, he remembered, since the accident, yet it felt like months. He took a deep breath and jumped out of bed, determined to face the world with his trademark energy. He hummed a bubbly,catchy tune  
/under his breath, that sounded vaguely like something Elvis has sung, just way off key. The sixteen year old climbed into the shower, effectively cleansing yesterday's grease from his hair before applying today's dosage.

Forgetting his shirt in a verySoda-like fashion, he made his way downstairs. Darry was attempting to cook some eggs- or at least, that's what Soda assumed they were. It was difficult to tell with all that smoke billowing from the pan.

"Cooking up a five-star meal, Darry?" Soda quipped cheerfully. Ponyboy looked up from the book he was reading, and Soda didn't miss the look his younger and older brothers exchanged with each other.

"At least they ain't green like when you last made them, little buddy." Darry replied, though Soda sensed the hesitation in his voice.

They hadn't exchanged any sarcastic banter since the accident, and Soda was determined to bring things back to normal as possible.

"It was part of my artistic expression." He responded with a vague shrug of his shoulders.

"Go put a shirt on, Sodapop. You got school today." Darry stated gruffly, and the cheerful moment was over.

Soda's face fell at the mention of school, and when he looked up, he saw Pony's expression matched. The normality of school seemed out of place in their season of grief, and Sodapop wasn't too fond of the place in the beginning.

"I was kinda hoping we could wait a little while longer before goin' back." He said carefully as Darry set a plate of charcoal eggs in front of his siblings.

"We gotta get things back to normal around here if you two wanna stay out of a boy's home." Darry replied without hesitation, his eyes lingering over his younger siblings. Soda nodded miserably in response, but suddenly looking up, staring at his brother. _Does that mean...?_

"Darry, you're keeping us?" He said quickly, as if the faster he said it, the more likely it was true.

Darry scoffed, shoving Soda's shoulder.

"I thought that was a given. You two just gotta stay outta trouble and we'll all get to stay together. We ain't losin' anybody else, alright?"

Pony gave a gleeful cry that could only be described as Steve-like, and the two younger brothers leaped up to give the eldest a rough embrace. A rare grin flashed over Darry's countenance before he quickly replaced it with his usual brooding stare, asif  
showing emotion might bring everything crashing down.

Soda ate whatever part of his breakfast was salvageable -and a little leftover chocolate cake from the previous night-before grabbing a dishrag to help Darry with the dishes. Ponyboy had to leave for school earlier than Soda, as his was a little furtheraway.  
He was gonna be in high school next year, but for now the two brothers were still in separate locations. With a finalflourish of the towel on the dishes and a quick jog upstairsto grab a shirt, Soda found himself at the door, as he ready ashe  
could be for the school day ahead.

"See ya, Dar." He called, running outside. Soda was jogging past the mailbox when a flash of white caught his eye. His eyebrow arched, and he walked to the postbox, opening it up. His stomach plummeted to his feet as he saw the contents. Bill, after bill,after  
bill. He quickly shut it again with a ferocity that made it seem as if the box had been full of poisonous spiders as opposed to slips of paper. To the Curtis brother's,however, those bills were just as dangerous.

The bounce in his step was gone as he trudged to the local high school, the reality of their situation weighing heavily on his young mind. The brick school building rose into view, and he was soon met by Steve and Two-Bit. Two-Bit was stumbling around  
witha grin, the evidence of alcohol on his breath and amusement in his eyes. Soda quickly filled them in on the events of the morning, save for the discovery.

"Wait, wait, wait," Two-Bit started, his grin widening. "Mister Could-Pass-For-A-Soc-If-He-Just-Washed-His-Hair is gonna try to raise the two of you?"

Soda shrugged, allowing a smile to cross his face at the phrasing of his friends blunt words.

"Looks that way, Two-Bit. Just wished he'd focus a little more on his cooking skills."

Steve pocketed his hands, chuckling. "This issure gonnabe interesting."

"Sure will." Soda replied, then the three of them sauntered into the building, not caring about the fact that the bell had rung at least ten minutes ago.

* * *

 **R & R. Believe me, next chapter is going to be awesome. #EnterSandy.**

 **Also, sorry this one was a little shorter (and not my best)I just finished out the school year and was a little busy.**


	3. Chapter 3

_"Ahem."_

Sodapop Curtis shot up in his chair amidst the snorts of laughter of his classmates. It was the last period of the day, and honestly he was surprised he had lasted this long.

"This is a classroom, not naptime, Mr. Curtis." His English teacher, Miss Morrison, reprimanded sternly, her features even more pinched-looking then usual. Soda relaxed, leaning back in his chair, his feet finding their way onto the top of his desk. He  
sentMorrison that winning grin that he had become known for, in a bid to charm her. Apparentlyhe had fallen asleep again.

As soon as she had turned her back he slumped down into his chair with a muffled yawn, mentally cursing Darry for waking him up so early that morning. Steve shifted in his chair to send him a grin, shoving a crumpled piece of paper onto his desk. Sodadiscreetly  
/took the note, double checking to make sure Morrison was still distracted before smoothingit, his blue eyes scanning the words quickly.

 _Man, you picked the worst time to take a nap. We got a new girl, and you ain't even noticed._

At the word "girl", Soda's head shot up, and Steve nearly fell from his chair with silent laughter at this reaction. He nodded his head in the direction of the front row. Soda followed his motion, his eyes locking on a foreign form in the chair closestto  
the teacher's desk. All he could see from this angle was smooth blonde hair, and a dress nice enough to mark her as the middle class- neither a greaser nor a soc.

He glanced over at Steve again, who was grinningear to ear as he held his cupped hands in front of his chest, the universal signal for "she's got big jugs."

Soda pushed himself up in his chair as far as he could while still maintaining some level of being casual, when the blonde turned swiftly in her seat, apparently aware of the fact that she was being watched.

Soda faltered.

He wasn't sure if it was the intensity in her silver eyes as she fiercely glared at him, or the breathtaking structure of her face, or just the pouty lips that were currently pressed into a tight line of annoyance, but he was sureshe was the prettiest  
girl in Tulsa.

She scoffed silently, undoubtedly at the stupid look on his face he knew he must be wearing, and turned back around, her hair bouncing. Steve fell once more into peels of silent laughter, not stopping even when the teacher sent him the dirtiest of looks.

The bell gave a shrill shriek, and Soda slid to his feet, his hands pocketed as he strode over to his best friend. Neither of them had bothered to bring their books, so naturally they had nothing to carry. "Man!" Steve hollered as soon as they were out  
/in the hallway. "That broad was tuff. You see the way she looked at ya? Might as well have killed you with them eyes of hers."

Soda grinned, chuckling as he shook his head. "What's her name, anyway?" He asked, checking to make sure the collar of his unbuttoned flannel shirt was still popped enough to graze the ends of his greased back locks.

Steve shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't pay attention. I was noticing _other_ things, man." Soda laughed, but not as much as he normally did during Steve's less than classy banter. Greasers weren't strangers to crude humor, it was everywhere in their neighborhood.  
Hell, all you had to do was stop at Buck's for five minutesto see way more than you ever wanted to.

He pushed all thought of the beautiful girl to the back of his mind as Two-Bit jogged up to them in the hall. The three chattered absently as always, though Soda's mind wandered back to the image of the envelopes he had found in the mailbox that  
a few houses wasn't enough to pay all those, he knew. Darry used to have this really good gig back in '63, some sort of dancing thing at a fancy vacation spot, and that had paid pretty well. He'd lost it, but never really said why. Dallysaidit  
was probably cause of a girl, but the other Greasers knew that was beyondstupid. Darry was too serious and broody forlove.

The three made their way towards the Curtis's house, with Steve taking advantage of every uneven piece of ground to do a backflip or some other trick he'd thought up. They were passing by the DX when Two-Bit stopped, saying he needed to pick up a sixpackof  
beer for some party he was going to. (As if he needed a party as an excuse to drink).

Soda and Steve waited outside, too many Greasers in one place and the employees tended to call the fuzz. They leaned against one of the gas pumps, boredly glancing around. A sign in the window caught Soda's attention, and he straightened.

"Hey man, look at that."He pointed, and Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Help wanted? You lookin' for a job or something?" He asked, smoothing back his hair with the comb he kept in his pocket.

"Darry's struggling with the house, man, he could use some help." Soda shrugged. He was too proud to say much about his family's financial issues, but Steve was his best friend, and he sort of knew about them anyway.

Steve shrugged as well, walking towards the station. "Let's check it out. I could use the cash, girls don't want nothin'to do with ya if you gotta sneak them into the drive-in."

The two sauntered into the station, both stopping to check their reflections in the windows. The owner, otherwise known as Mr. Dale Evans, was hesitant about hiring them at first. But Soda's relaxed charm and Steve's knowledge of automobiles soon  
hired them on the spot as Two-Bit stood a little ways a way, watching with a beer in his hand.

The three made their way back to the Curtishouse, and Soda had a bit more of a bounce in his step than usual. He made Two-Bit and Steve swear not to tell Darry about the job, knowing he would undoubtedly feel guilty that Soda had gotten one, as if hewasn't  
a goodenough provider.

As Ponyboy worked on his homework at the kitchen table, Steve found the chocolate cake, and Soda lounged on the couch, Two-Bit glanced up.

"Hey, you two up to going to that party tonight? Lots of girls going." He smirked, folding his arms. Soda shrugged, Steve nodded. Ponyboy glanced up. "I'll go."

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. "It ain't for kids, Ponyboy. Why don't you just go watch some cartoons?"

Soda shot his friend a look of annoyance, like he always did when he got too gruff with his baby brother, and Ponyboy sat back down, his face stormy as he glared at Steve's back.

"Great." Two-Bit nodded enthusiastically. "It's settled then. This night's gonna be good."

* * *

 **R &R! I feel like I'm super out of character. Let me know ofanything I can change. Also, for some reason the spacing and stuff goes weird after I write it? So I'm not doing that, and I don't know what is.**


End file.
